She said, “I came by to walk with you to school. Hey, that’s a man! She’s a cute one. Is that a singing instrument thing she’s got? I always wanted a musical man, but, you know, my father could never afford one. All we ever had growing up were regular old run-of-the- mill mans. How did you guys get so wealthy?”
“We were blessed,” the boy said. “She can talk too.”
“Well,” the girl said, “she must cost a lot. Tell her to say something. I love the way they talk. I see them all the time at the festival and the circus. Tell her to say something funny.”
The boy looked down at his man, and she grumbled, “Okay, so now I’m a circus performer.”
The girl looked at the boy, then back at the man, then back at the boy. “Is that it? Is that all she can say?”
“She can say more than that, can’t you, girl?” he said, winking at his female man.
She scolded, “Hurry on your way to school, little children, before you are late.”
The girl said, “That is soooooo cute! I love the way they talk. Can I bring my little brother over to play with her?”
The boy said, “Well, I’ll have to ask my parents.”
His female man quipped, “Well, maybe you should ask me. The answer is no. Goodbye now. Have fun at school, children.”
The girl said, “That is soooooo cute! You are soooooo lucky to have her. She must be worth a lot of money.”
The boy, sensing the shortening temper of his female man, who was known to bite on occasion, nudged his girl toward the door and they left for school.
His female man was named Red Locks because of the red hair on her head, but often the boy believed they should have named her Red Mouth because of the sassiness with which she sometimes spoke to him — and the painful man bites she sometimes gave him.
When the boy came home he fed his man, and the harp was in her hand as he dressed to go out again. He promised her, “Tonight when I come home, you can play the song you created for me as many times as you like. I will listen.”
“Will you?”
“I promise.”
“Will you?” said she who had been disappointed so many times before.
“I promise, I promise, I promise,” said he who had disappointed.
“Okay, I’ll try to wait up. If I’m asleep, wake me. An artist must have her sleep, you know?” She batted her eyes at him.
He petted her head. “You’re still my favorite girl, okay?”
That made her happy and she waited up well into the night for him, but when the hours grew too long for her determined but limited constitution, she fell asleep.
She awoke with the next day’s sun and pouted as he dressed for school. “You did not wake me last night as I told you to.”
“I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Pinhead!” she called him.
“Who is the man and who is the master!” he fired back.
She shook her head from side to side and clucked her tongue with sadness as she set the small singing harp on her lap and played the song he hadn’t asked her to play: “The way you treat me, the way you treat me, the way you treat me, my heart is unclear. The way you treat me, the way you treat me, the way you treat me, my heart is soooooo unclear.”
At the completion of her song, he sat down on the ground beside her. “That is beautiful,” he told her because he mistook the melancholy in the tune for cheer and he hadn’t really been listening to the words. “You are the best musical man in the whole wide world.”
She smirked.
“The best,” he said with a wink.
She said, “I have to be honest with you. I don’t like your girl and neither does Mother.”
“Why not?”
“Mother says that she is no good for you.”
“What makes her say that?”
“She is hungry. She thinks you can feed her.”
“Oh, I see. But your mother is wrong this time. I am a poor boy. I can’t feed anyone. She is with me because she loves me. She is beautiful. Don’t you think she is beautiful?”
“This girl is beautiful like a poisonous flower. Her beauty is there to draw you to the poison.”
He shook with laughter. “Oh, but wait. This is my man and my dead man talking to me. Hahaha. What a pinhead I am! For a moment there, I was almost listening to you. I have to go to school now. Goodbye and thanks for the lovely song.”
He reached to pet her head and she grabbed his finger and bit it.
“Ouch!” he cried out. “Sneaky man!”
“Listen to me!” she screamed.
“You bit me! I should muzzle you!”
She put her hands on her hips. “You will do no such thing, you big oaf! How dare you threaten to put the muzzle on me. Ask her about her brother! Mother said to ask her about her bad little brother!”
Then, with violent possession of the small singing harp, she dove angrily under the bed.
And he kissed his finger where she had bitten it and left for school, an odd little smile on his face.
After school the boy went to the mill to work his hours.
After the mill he came home and ate a meal with his parents while his musical man played — the tinny drums this time. Over the years they had acquired most of the orchestral instruments in the wealthy boy’s father’s house because of his fear. But she had never played the drums at mealtime before.
She drummed to make you want to shake your hips.
His father looked up from his bowl. “She’s drumming tonight. It’s nice, though.”
His mother said, “She’s very talented.”
The father said to the boy, who now wore no smile on his face, “You and your girl aren’t going out tonight?”
The boy shook his head.
“What happened?” his mother asked.
The boy shook his head. “At school, we had… sort of a fight.”
“Well, that happens. That’s nothing to worry about. That’s nothing at all,” his mother said. “When your father and I were young — ”
“Leave him be. Let him eat,” said his father.
And his female man drummed to make you want to shake your hips.
In his bedroom that night, he told his man, “She says her brother, her little brother, has been recently released from incarceration. He is a thief. The authorities have him on their list. But that doesn’t mean you are right. He may be bad, but she is my girl. She wouldn’t do a thing like that to me.”
“They are hungry in this neighborhood.”
“But she loves me, I know it.”
“She is hungry.”
“No.”
“The way she looked at me… she says I am worth a lot of money. You know if they sold me for meat how much they would get? You know if they sold me to a circus how much they would get? I play every instrument. I can talk. I should be owned by the wealthy who know how to protect their possessions. In this neighborhood, it is only a matter of time.”
“So you want me to sell you to someone wealthy? For your safety?”
“No. I want to stay forever and ever with you. But you should never have brought her into our home.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m crazy. I’m a crazy man.”
“You’re my favorite girl,” said he to her.
“You’re not so bad for an oaf,” said she to him.
She laughed and went under the bed. He laughed and went to bed. He lay in his bed for many minutes, laughing, laughing, laughing, and thinking.
His laughter died away, and he took in a deep breath and then let it out. He got up and looked under his bed, where she awaited.